


(twenty minutes later) wound up in the hospital

by b4byhoney



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Asthmatic Harry, Caring Louis, Fluff, Harry is sick, Hospitals, LOTS of pet names..., Louis Tomlinson Calls Harry Styles Pet Names, M/M, Protective Louis, Sick Harry, Sickfic, harry is the little spoon, he just has the flu, not like BAD sick, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 04:57:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16866562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b4byhoney/pseuds/b4byhoney
Summary: “Baby, I think a quick trip to A&E might do you some good, hm?” Louis keeps his voice as calm as possible. He doesn't want to startle Harry or make him scared, but he knows that Harry’s fever is too high and he can't risk Harry choking himself into another attack when he's so poorly.He hears a sharp intake of breath come for Harry and he knows Harry is starting to panic. Louis moves his hand from Harry's hair to his back, rubbing circles into his sweat-soaked shirt.“No, no. Shh, don't worry, darling. Everything is okay, you’ll be okay. I just know that the doctors will be able to make you feel much better much sooner than I can...Just want you to get healthy as soon as possible, okay?”-or the one where harry has the flu and louis is a protective, nervous-wreck of a boyfriend





	(twenty minutes later) wound up in the hospital

**Author's Note:**

> ummmm i recently discovered that "sickfics" are a thing and now i cant stop reading about precious, vulnerable, sick harry and protective, caring, boyfriend louis.......so i wrote this solely out of selfishness because i want more cute lil sick!harry in my life. 
> 
> ive never written anything like this so i hope it's...okay? at least?? idk maybe it's proper shit. i guess we'll see! also some of the words should be italicised but im not smart enough to know how to do that on here....oops?
> 
> (also, quick lil tw- there's two scenes w emeto and i know a lot of people are emetophobic so just a warning! it's nothing too graphic or anything, but it's there. so heads up if youre not comfortable w that! xx)
> 
> \- title is from end of the day by one direction -

A small whimper is the first thing Louis hears when he opens the door to poke his head into the dark bedroom where his boyfriend is trying to sleep off a nasty stomach virus he’s managed to pick up. 

"I take it you're not feeling any better then, sweetheart?" He whispers into the darkness, walking to the other side of the room and crouching next to the bed so he’s facing Harry. He reaches over and turns on the bedside lamp, that way he can get a better look at his sick boy.

"Nnngh, turn it off, ‘ouis," Harry moans and throws the duvet over his head, shielding himself from the unbearable light.

Louis pulls the blanket back down and softly strokes Harry's cheek, feeling for a fever. "Let me look at you, H. Then I'll turn it off."

Harry sighs resignedly, not wanting to fight back. Louis can't help but notice, even in the dimly lit room, that Harry is much paler than usual. He pushes back Harry's sweaty curls, wincing at the obvious fever. 

"You're still so warm, pet," Louis tells him sadly, continuing to play with his hair. 

"Feel awful," Harry murmurs as he leans into Louis's touch.

Louis nods knowingly. "Let's get some food into you, yeah?"

"No... No, no, no. No food," Harry quickly answers, shaking his head.

"Come on, hun. I know you don't feel well, but you have to get something into your system," Louis reasons, rubbing his boyfriend's arm comfortingly. 

"Don't wanna throw up anymore," Harry weakly fights back. 

"That's why I'm just going to make you some toast. Nice and light for your belly," Louis smiles.

Harry grumbles lamely, but, nonetheless, doesn't argue this time. He just didn't have the energy to argue, fortunate for Louis. 

"C'mon, bub. Up you get," Louis encourages, helping Harry sit up in bed. “There’s a good lad.”

Harry lethargically swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands up shakily. Louis wraps his arm around Harry's waist, steadying him.

The two walk towards the kitchen, where Harry immediately slumps into the chair, and Louis goes over to the toaster. 

A few minutes later, Louis has toasted and lightly buttered the bread. Harry's head is resting on his arms, which are folded on the table. Louis sets the plate in front of Harry and places his hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. 

"H? Lift up your head, angel," Louis coaxes.

Begrudgingly, Harry raises his head from the table. "I feel icky, Lou."

Louis nods pitifully. "I know, love. Just try to eat some toast. For me?"

When Harry pulls his signature ‘kicked puppy’ look (as Louis likes to call it), Louis gives Harry a stern look in return. And Harry just can't say no to the older boy.

He groans when he sees the piece of buttered toast sitting on the table. Mumbling an unusually sassy 's'just gonna come right back up, Louis', Harry picks up the bread and nibbles on the corner. 

Harry ends up eating a slice and a half before he can’t handle it anymore. He shakes his head, silently pushing the dish away from him. 

"Doing alright, baby?" Louis asks, noticing Harry's quietness. 

Harry shakes his head once again. "Nauseous," he breathes out through gritted teeth.

"You're okay," Louis soothes, his voice relaxed, making Harry feel a tad bit better. "Shall we head to the toilet?"

"Please."

With that, Louis stands from his seat, carelessly discarding the leftover toast into the rubbish, and goes back over to Harry. 

He rubs Harry's tense shoulders and places a lingering kiss in his sweaty hair. "Let's go, H."

Harry really doesn't feel like getting up and making the ever-so-long (barely even fifteen step) journey to the bathroom, but he knows if he doesn't get there soon, he'll make a mess right there in their beautiful kitchen. 

So he rises from the chair and successfully makes it to the toilet on his own, albeit a few stumbles here and there, causing Louis to hold onto his waist, lightly guiding him.

He slides down the wall in front of the toilet, not wanting to get sick but knowing it was going to happen sooner or later. He lolls his head back and closes his eyes, breathing heavily as he tries to wait out the nausea. 

By now, Louis has comfortably sat next to Harry on the cold tile. He grazes his nails up and down Harry's arm in an attempt to calm him down. 

A few minutes pass and Harry's breathing is becoming more ragged. He can feel the sick fighting its way up his throat. He swallows thickly. "Fuck."

"Shh, you're okay, bubs," Louis promises and grabs Harry by the hips to position him in front of the toilet.

Almost immediately, Harry gags up the piece of toast he had just eaten. He continues to heave and cough up everything that is in his stomach, which, other than the toast, is practically nothing. He chokes and sputters on the painful stomach acid, spitting into the toilet. He takes a few deep breaths, attempting to even out his breathing and weakly reaches over and grabs some toilet tissue, wiping the sick and saliva dribbling from his lips. He shudders at how disgusting he feels before throwing the tissue in the toilet, flushing away its contents. 

"Feel better, lovely?" Louis asks, stroking Harry's cheek soothingly. Harry only barely nods, shrugging his shoulders. "Let me grab you some water."

Harry wants to protest and make Louis stay with him, but he can't muster up the energy, so he allows Louis to leave to get him some water. 

A minute later, Louis enters the bathroom again with a small glass of water and a damp flannel. Louis places the cloth on Harry's burning neck and hands him the water. 

"Small sips, Haz," Louis warns, not wanting Harry to get sick again.

The cool water feels incredible on Harry's sore throat. Even with his nausea, Harry manages to drink the whole cup before handing it back to Louis.

"How're you feeling?"

Harry groans and mumbles something resembling 'yucky'. Louis chuckles sadly at Harry’s juvenile choice of words, wishing he could take away his boyfriend's pain.

"Want to go back to bed?" Louis whispers when he feels Harry's head fall on his shoulder. 

"Too tired," Harry replies, his words slurring slightly. 

"C'mon, you can't fall asleep in here, lovebug. It's not comfy. Let's get you back in b-"

Louis's words are cut off by a soft snore and he can't help but let out a breathy laugh. Harry really is just too cute. 

Not having the heart to wake him up, Louis stays sat on the floor in the toilet, allowing Harry to drool on his shoulder as he sleeps peacefully, only hoping Harry would feel better after the nap. 

-

“Harry? Sweetheart, wake up for me, yeah?” Louis nudges the younger boy in his lap awake, watching his eyes open as he looks around blearily. 

“Wha’ are- Um?” Harry slurs, searching the room and blinking frantically. Where was he? What’s happened? He feels panicky. And hot. Too hot. 

Louis was used to this version of Harry. He’s like this nearly every time he’s poorly. He’s always quick to panic and he’s always out of it for a while after he wakes up, but Louis’ always there to calm him down and bring him back to reality. 

“Hey, hey. Relax, bub. You’re alright, everything's fine. We’re just in the bathroom. You fell asleep,” Louis consoles, petting Harry’s hair to try to calm the boy in his lap. 

Harry knows Louis is talking to him -can hear his voice- but he can’t quite make out what he’s saying through his sleep-filled mind. He looks up at Louis, trying his best to focus on the older boy. 

“Oh,” he whispers hoarsely. His mind felt foggy, as if he weren’t really awake. Was he delirious? Why couldn't he think? 

“Baby? Are ya listenin’ to me?” Louis calls to him, eyebrows furrowing. 

Harry stares blankly at his boyfriend and gives him the minutest nod. “Am I- Am I ill?” He asks. He feels ill; he definitely feels ill. 

Louis chuckles out of pity, combing the younger boy’s bangs back. “Yeah, hun, you’re a bit poorly. You fell asleep in me lap for a bit but I don’t want your back to start hurting you, so I think it’s time I get you to bed so you can get some proper rest.”

“Huh,” Harry responds rather dumbly. “Mhm, ‘lright.”

He pushes himself up from Louis’ laps and tries to stand up on his wobbly, achy legs. He looks like a baby deer first learning to walk, Louis thinks.

“Here, babes. Let me help you up, okay? You’re lookin’ rather shaky, don’t want you to get hurt,” Louis helps his boyfriend stand, steadying him with his hands on his hips. 

Harry turns around to face Louis and scrunches his nose. “Did I throw up? My throat- It hurts?”

“Yes, lovely. You’ve been ill for a couple of days and you’ve gotten sick a few times. Do you remember, bub?”

Louis is getting a bit nervous if he’s honest. Harry isn’t usually this out of it when he wakes up when he’s sick. He’s probably overreacting, but Louis is Louis; he worries about Harry. It’s what he does best. 

“I, uh, yeah. I remember,” Harry says quietly, sounding slightly unsure. He walks out of the bathroom with Louis still holding onto his hips and drags himself into their shared bedroom. 

“I’m gonna grab the thermometer, okay, H? I think your fever might be getting too high, you're still quite out of it from waking up,” Louis tells Harry as he helps him into bed and pulls the duvet over his shaking body. 

“Wait, no, please,” Harry whimpers in response, grabbing weakly onto Louis’ wrist. “Please stay. Sorry, m’sorry for being poorly. I didn’t mean- I just- Please don’t leave me.”

Louis holds Harry’s hand tightly, bringing the teary-eyed boy into a hug and shushes his whimpering. “Shh, shh. Hey, I’m not leaving you, angel. I’m here. I’m right here, I promise you. I just need to take your temperature because I think your fever is making you kinda delirious, yeah? And I’d like to get you some paracetamol to hopefully break the fever. How’s that, baby? Is that okay?”

Harry’s glassy eyes blink slowly and Louis can practically see the wheels turning in his fever-muddled brain, trying to process what Louis said. “Oh,” he settles. “Thought you were, like, leaving.”

“Never, love,” Louis clicks his tongue. Harry sounds so fragile and vulnerable like this. 

Louis places a chaste kiss to Harry’s burning forehead, mumbling a quiet ‘I love you’ into the kiss. He leaves the bedroom and goes back into the bathroom to grab the fever reducer. He’s rushing a bit, not wanting to leave his poorly boyfriend alone for too long. 

He was in the middle of quickly washing and bleaching the toilet when he heard Harry’s small voice calling him. 

“Louis? Lou?”

“Comin’, lovely,” Louis shouts back and quickly grabs the paracetamol bottle off the counter before exiting the bathroom. He doesn't have time to search for the thermometer; not when Harry needs him. 

When Louis re-enters the bedroom, his heart breaks. Harry is sat up in the bed, cuddling the blanket with tear tracks rolling down his flushed cheeks. 

Louis runs over to Harry and gently takes Harry’s face in his hands. “Baby, baby. Take a deep breath. What’s got you so worked up, hm? Harry, look at me.”

“Th-The, uh, I’m-” Harry stumbles over his words. “Hurts.”

Louis brings his hand to Harry’s forehead, then his chest. He’s burning. Absolutely burning. 

“Okay, okay. I know it hurts, darling I know. We’re gonna get some medicine into you and you’ll feel so much better soon, yeah? You’ll be just fine. I’ll stay with you until you feel better, pet,” Louis promises, peppering Harry’s warm cheeks with reassuring kisses. 

“W-Will you please lay with me?” Harry chokes out. He’s still crying and Louis is sure it’s just from his fever, but his heart still clenches at the sight. 

“Of course, sweetheart. Just take these pills n’ then we can cuddle, okay? Sound good?” Louis coo’s sadly and hands the younger the pills

Harry gives a tiny nod in response and brings his hand out shakily to take the pills. He swallows them with a small sip of water. He winces and reaches up to massage his throat when it scratches his raw throat on the way down. 

“Ouch,” he croaks with a pout.

Louis frowns. “I know, H.”

Harry scooches over to his side of his bed and pats the now empty spot next to him. “Did you….Are we going to snuggle? I’d like t-to try to sleep, please?” 

Louis can’t help but smile at the boy; he just looked so young and innocent. He sits next to Harry on the bed and pulls him into a hug. “I love you so much, sweetheart. You know that? Hate seein’ you like this,” he kisses the top of Harry’s curls, doing everything he can to calm his still-teary-eyed boyfriend. 

“I know y’do,” Harry whispers, nuzzling into Louis’ lap. “M’okay though. Just feel...just feel a little yucky.”

Louis wraps his arm around Harry and gently rubs his tummy, hoping to help comfort Harry even more. Harry’s little moan of relaxation is enough for Louis to know it's helping. 

“Your hands are magic. You’re magic,” Harry slurs half-asleep. 

“’Course I am, darling. Now get some sleep. You’ll feel so much better when you wake up…”

-

Louis is surprised when he blinks himself awake. He looks around the room to help himself wake up and squints to read the digital clock sat on their nightstand. 10:05. He remembers falling asleep next to a sickly Harry what felt like only minutes prior, but, based on the time, nearly two hours have passed. 

He isn’t sure what had caused him to wake up, but the second he places his hand on Harry’s back, he knew exactly why. The heat coming off of Harry’s back, even through his shirt, is unbearable. Harry must have cuddled into Louis in his sleep, his burning fever waking Louis. 

As if on cue, Harry starts tossing in his sleep, his eyebrows scrunching up subconsciously. A small whimper makes its way past the younger boy’s lips- a pitiful, high-pitched moan. 

Louis winces to himself. Should he wake Harry up? They definitely need to cool him down, but he also knows Harry should get as much sleep as possible. Before he can weigh the pros and cons in his mind, though, Harry begins coughing harshly. It sounds like he’s choking and Louis immediately springs into action. 

“Harry. Harry, I need you to wake up,” he coaxes, trying his best to stay calm, but the choking noise Harry’s making is spine-chilling. “Please, baby. You need to sit up. Come on, we need to get some air into your lungs.”

Harry eyes fly open once his brain processes what is happening. His breathing is heavy and panicked and his eyes show nothing but fear. He tries to scramble up into a sitting position but he’s just too weak and too hot to function. “Lo-Louis-,” Harry heaves out. 

“Come on,” Louis repeats. He repositions himself so he’s able to lift Harry’s top half and sit him up enough for him to breathe. “Harry, I can’t have you having an asthma attack right now, you’re too ill. You need to try your hardest to breath, lovely. Calm yourself down.”

Harry can’t reply, he can’t calm down. He can’t breathe. 

His chest is heaving up and down, he’s hyperventilating at this point, and Louis doesn’t know what to do. Louis reaches over Harry to the bedside table on the opposite side of the bed and grabs the water from before they had fallen asleep. He brings the glass to Harry’s quivering lips and tries to get him to drink, hoping that by drinking some water, his brain can realise that he isn’t actually choking. 

It doesn’t work.

Harry is too frantic to even understand how to drink and swallow water, and it all comes dribbling down his front. Louis bites his lip, chewing on it anxiously. He needs Harry’s inhaler. 

Louis acts quickly and sprints into their en suite where he knows Harry’s inhaler is sat in the top drawer. He can still hear Harry choking on air as he yanks the drawer open and grabs the inhaler in lightning speed, leaving the drawer open and a mess before running back to Harry. 

“Alright, alright. I’ve got you, lovely,” Louis assures, bringing the inhaler to Harry's pale -nearly blue- lips. Harry looks up with glassy, terrified eyes and Louis just nods sadly. “I know. I know you're havin’ a hard time understanding things right now, H, but I really, really need you to do this for me. It's just your puffer, yeah? You’ve used it plenty of times. You remember how it works, hm?” 

Harry’s chest is rising and falling far too fast but he nods. He knows the word ‘puffer’, he’s heard that before, he understands that. So he parts his lips the smallest bit and let's Louis pump the medicine into him. He can hear Louis murmuring to him but is still too panicked to be able to process the words. All he can focus on is how hot he is and how small his chest feels. 

Louis doesn't realise Harry is crying until a tear rolls down his flushed cheek. He presses on the inhaler again for Harry and wipes the tear. There are tears of his own threatening to fall.

After the second puff of medicine, Harry's breathing normalises just enough for Louis’ panic to die down the slightest bit. 

“Harry,” he tries talking slow and clear enough for Harry's fever-hot mind to comprehend. 

He calls his name one more time when Harry doesn't respond. This time, Harry moves his eyes from where he was staring at nothing to looking at Louis.

“Hi,” Louis whispers. “Can you breathe better now, sweetheart?” 

It takes Harry a second to answer. “Y’s,” he tries, but his voice is completely shot and can barely even croak out a syllable. 

Louis doesn't like the way it keeps taking Harry so long to understand what he's saying, but before Louis can worry any more, Harry leans forward slightly and chokes out a stream of pure stomach acid onto their duvet. He cries out at the burning on his already scratched up throat and flails his hand around until it finds Louis’.

Louis stands up quick and positions himself behind the sick boy. “Fuck,” he hisses. “Okay. That's okay. Don't worry, H. It's okay.”

Harry is still coughing and gagging as he goes to bring the hand that's not clinging onto Louis for dear life up to his mouth. Louis grabs his boyfriend’s wrist, not letting him bring it any closer. 

“No, Harry.”

Harry retches dryly again. “Th’blank’t-”

“The blanket is already messed, babe. It's okay. Let it happen, don't worry about the duvet. Move your hand, you’re fine. I'm not mad; never mad,” Louis insists, letting go of Harry's wrist. 

Harry blinks the stinging tears out of his eyes and retches again. His whole body jerks forward with the strength of it and more bile comes falling past his lips. He whimpers when he sees the mess he's made on their blanket, but Louis quickly hushes him.

Harry coughs again and Louis knows he has to get Harry back to reality before another asthma attack. He runs his finger through Harry's curls, ignoring the dampness from the sweat. 

“Shh… You're done. You're done being sick, love. You're okay. I need you to take a deep breath for me, though. You're working yourself up,” Louis reasons, continuing to play with Harry's hair. 

“Hot,” Harry whines, nearly incoherently. 

Louis doesn't hesitate to take off his own shirt and pour some of the water he tried to get Harry to drink earlier on it. He pulls the blanket off of Harry, careful not to get the sick anywhere, and uses the damp shirt to wipe Harry's face before putting it on the back of Harry's neck. 

A small sigh leaves Harry’s lips at the coolness of the shirt on his burning skin. 

“You're breakin’ my heart here, baby,” Louis murmurs, dropping a kiss in Harry's hair. 

“Sorry,” Harry’s voice cracks in the middle of the word and he frowns at that. 

Louis sighs at that. He knows Harry isn't apologising just because. He knows Harry is genuinely sorry– sorry for being a burden, sorry for being sick, sorry for making a mess, sorry for making Louis worried. Harry has always been the most selfless person Louis knows and he knows that having all of the attention on him is killing Harry inside. He never wants to take away from anyone's happiness. 

“Baby, I think a quick trip to A&E might do you some good, hm?” Louis keeps his voice as calm as possible. He doesn't want to startle Harry or make him scared, but he knows that Harry’s fever is too high and he can't risk Harry choking himself into another attack when he's so poorly. 

He hears a sharp intake of breath come for Harry and he knows Harry is starting to panic. Louis moves his hand from Harry's hair to his back, rubbing circles into his sweat-soaked shirt. 

“No, no. Shh, don't worry, darling. Everything is okay, you’ll be okay. I just know that the doctors will be able to make you feel much better much sooner than I can...Just want you to get healthy as soon as possible, okay?” 

“’m’I gonna die?” Harry wheezes out, eyes blown wide.

Louis feels like the wind has been knocked out of him at how genuine the fear in Harry's voice is. It's the straw that breaks the camel’s back. They’re definitely heading to A&E now. “Okay,” he says, as if it were an answer. “Let's get you to hospital, yeah?”

Harry turns his head towards Louis as quickly as his aching muscles let him. “M’dying?”

“No, lovely. No. Definitely not. I promise you,” Louis reassures. 

He stands up from where he was kneeling on the bed behind his boyfriend and goes to the wardrobe, grabbing a fresh shirt for Harry and a shirt for himself as well, as his is now sopping wet and cooling Harry down. 

“That's just your fever talkin’, sweet boy. You’re absolutely not dying. You'll be right as rain soon, yeah? We just need to get some fluids into you and cool you down, okay? You’ve not been able to keep any water down so we’re gonna get you some help with that. That’s all,” Louis smiles as he walks back to Harry and helps him out of his dirty shirt and into the clean one. 

Harry's limbs move slowly, looking as if they weigh hundreds of kilograms. Louis feels a bit like he's dressing one of his baby siblings and it hurts him to see the love of his life so helpless. 

“C’mon, let's get you up, honey. Can you stand for me?” Louis takes Harry's hands into his own to help the weak boy stand. 

Harry rises to his feet, not without stumbling a bit from the dizziness. Louis is quick to steady him and help him out the bedroom door. 

The stairs are a bit of a tedious process, but Louis manages to get Harry to the bottom in one piece and, at this point, he considers that a win. He walks over to their front door and grabs his keys and slides into a pair of Vans and helps Harry shuffle his feet into some Gucci loafers. He realises Gucci is a bit too dressy for the hospital, but it's the first pair he can grab, so he'll take it. 

“Ready, my love? Do you need anything before we head out?” Louis checks, wanting to make Harry as comfortable as possible when he's feeling so ill. 

Slowly lifting his head to look at his older boyfriend, Harry nods dazedly. “Bin?”

“Good idea, bub. Always so smart, aren’t you?” Louis praises. He's trying his best to distract Harry as much as he can with his meaningless small talk, but he's not sure Harry’s even conscious enough to be listening. “I'm gonna grab the bin real quick. I’ll be back in just a mo’.”

Leaving Harry leaning on the door, Louis dashes upstairs and grabs the small sick bin he left beside the bed earlier. He catches a glimpse of the dirty blanket and makes a mental note to get that in the washer as soon as they get back home. 

When he get to the bottom of the stairs, he sees Harry in the same position as he left him, his eyes fallen shut. “Let's get you to the car now.”

He helps Harry out to the car and wants to cry at how much of Harry's weight he's carrying. The poor boy can barely hold himself up. After a few near-falls, they make it to Louis’ Range Rover and the older gets Harry comfortable in the passenger seat. 

Quickly jogging to his side of the car, Louis buckles himself in his seat and turns the car on. He immediately starts up the air-con even though it's nearly winter and he's absolutely freezing; he knows Harry is burning. 

Speaking of Harry, Louis takes one last glance at the boy who has already curled himself into a tiny ball with the bin in his lap. His eyes are rimmed red from sickness and lack of sleep and his breaths are coming out uneven and slightly wheezy from his asthma attack earlier. Louis frowns at him and places his left hand on Harry's shaking leg. 

“You're okay, my love,” Louis promises quietly, pulling out of their driveway. “I know you’re scared and feel yucky, but you're okay.”

Harry whines in response. “Fuzzy,” he whimpers out. 

Louis worriedly shoots a look at Harry before turning back to the road. “What’s that, H? What's fuzzy?”

“M’head,” Harry tries to explain. 

“Your head is fuzzy?” Louis questions, not quite understanding what Harry is trying to tell him. 

“Mmm. Can’t th’nk. Dunno wh’t’s goin’ on,” Harry manages to slur out. 

Louis winces and bites his bottom lip at Harry's voice. His words are close to being unintelligible at this point and he isn't even daring to open his mouth more than the necessary amount to speak.

“Yeah? You havin’ a hard time thinking, baby? That's okay, there's no need for you to think right now. Just relax. I’m taking you to the doctor's to get you fixed up, okay? That's all that's going on. Don't think, angel. Just rest, yeah? We’ll be there in a few minutes.” Louis consoles Harry's nerves and draws small shapes in Harry's thigh to help calm him. 

They're a minute or two away from the hospital when Harry suddenly chokes on a gag and startles himself from his half-asleep state. His eyes go wide as he gags again, this time into his hand.

“Shit,” Louis curses under his breath. He uses one of his hands to grab the bin in Harry's lap and holds it under the latter’s chin. He's taking panicked looks back and forth from the road and Harry. 

Harry retches a few more times over the bin but doesn't bring anything up. He bats the bucket away from him with his hand and scrunches his nose. 

Louis furrows his eyebrows. “That it, bub? You good?”

Harry nods silently. He still has that queasy look on his face but Louis trusts that he's empty and let's the bucket rest on Harry's legs again. 

Pulling into the nearest parking space in the A&E entrance of the hospital, Louis lets out a relieved sigh when he sees only a few cars. Hopefully they'll be able to take Harry in pretty soon. 

Helping a shaky Harry out of the car, Louis shuts the car door behind them and goes towards the automatic doors. There's only two other groups of people in the waiting room. It's the middle of the night at this point and they both look drunk off their asses, Louis decides. The nurse sat behind the counter looks up and smiles sadly at Louis and Harry. 

Louis sits Harry on one of the plastic seat in the room and leaves a chaste kiss on his fever hot cheek. He tells Harry he’ll be back in a second and Harry just blinks blearily back at him. 

“How can I help you, love?” The nurse asks warmly. Bless her for being so happy this time of night, Louis thinks. 

“Uh, yeah, my boyfriend’s caught some kind of virus, I’m assuming. I was just gonna let him wait it out at home, but his fever feels really high and I can't get him to keep anything down,” Louis rushes out, stealing glances at Harry every now and again. “He’s asthmatic, too, and he had an attack earlier. ‘s kinda what pushed me over the edge and decided to bring ‘im here. I was hoping someone could just help him out? Maybe get him some fluids? He has to be dehydrated by now, he’s not even got anything in him to bring up.”

The nurse, who Louis realizes is called Sherry based on her name tag, nods along with Louis’ rambling. “Sounds like an easy fix. Don't fret too much, hun. You look like a nervous wreck- look almost as tired as your boyfriend.”

Louis chuckles pitifully and thanks the gods above for the sweet nurse trying to lighten the mood. “Can’t help but worry about my boy. ‘s what I do best,” he smiles and tries to joke along. He feels like a weight’s been lifted off his chest knowing that Harry is in safe hands and can get better now. 

“We’ll just take his vitals real quick and get him a bed. It sounds like he’ll need an IV for fluids and we’ll get him and anti-emetic for the nausea. You're lucky it's not busy tonight. From the looks of it, you two’ll be out of here in no time. He’ll be just fine, darling.”

Louis nods and thanks her. He goes back to Harry and brings a hand up to his cheek to bring him out from his stupor a bit. “Hi, lovely. They’re gonna check you out now, okay? We’re gonna get you feelin’ better.”

He walks Harry to the bed where the nurse leads them to and helps him lie down. Harry hasn't said a word since they got in and Louis' not sure if he even knows where he is. 

The nurse takes Harry’s temperature, heart rate, and blood pressure before telling Louis that she’ll send a doctor to them in a minute. Louis thanks her once again and sits himself in the seat next to Harry’s bed. Harry looks so pale and small and Louis just wants to cuddle him and protect him from everything bad. 

“Love you, H,” Louis whispers. He just needs Harry to know how much he loves him and know that he's not mad at him for being ill. 

Harry tiredly turns his head to Louis. “L’ve you.”

“Harry Styles?”

Louis looks up at the voice and nods at the doctor. “That'd be us. I’m Louis,” he introduces himself and shakes the doctor's hand. 

“Good to meet you, Louis. I’m Doctor Walsh,” she smiles and shifts his attention to Harry. “And you must be Harry.”

Harry slowly nods his head and swallows thickly. He can't seem to keep eye contact with the doctor as his eyes drift around the makeshift curtain-enclosed room and Dr. Walsh definitely picks up on it. She looks to Louis for an explication. 

“Yeah, he’s, uh, been a bit out of it for a while. I think it's from the fever. He’s always been really easily affected by temperatures, but it usually isn't this bad,” he informs, biting his thumbnail anxiously. 

“I see,” Dr. Walsh nods in acknowledgment. “Well that's okay. We’re gonna get you all sorted out as quick as possible, Harry.”

The following hour is filled with needles and tears. Harry cries when he's pricked with the IV and Louis’ heart shatters at the sobs. They run a few tests and continue to monitor Harry's vitals while they wait for the test results to come back. It doesn't take long for the doctor to come to the diagnosis of gastroenteritis which also caused dehydration and exhaustion. Louis listens attentively to all the instructions and tips on helping Harry get over the virus. He learns that ice packs and cold cloths are an easy way to get his fever down if he can't keep down paracetamol. They also tell him to bring Harry back if he's not able to keep any liquids or bland food down within the next 48-72 hours. Louis feels overwhelmed by all the information but also so unbelievably relieved knowing that Harry is okay. 

It takes almost two hours for the medicine and fluids to kick in and bring Harry back to reality a bit more. The glaze in his eyes is less evident and his lips have regained some of their colour. 

“Hey there,” Louis grins fondly when he catches Harry staring at him. 

“Feel better,” Harry says back as if it were a greeting. 

Louis kisses his forehead. “Yeah? You feel better?  
I’m so glad, sweetheart. You had me really worried there for a while.”

Harry pouts when Louis tells him this. “Sorry...didn’t mean to.” His voice still has a painful rasp to it but it sounds much clearer than before. 

“No, no. Don’t apologise, Harry. You have nothing to apologise for at all, sweet love. Understand? Tell me you understand.”

Harry looks Louis in the eyes and, for the first time that night, his eyes don't look scarily empty. “Yes. I understand.”

Louis nods once. “Good. I just want you better, okay? Why don’t you try to get some sleep while we wait for the IV to finish? Then I can take you home and we can snuggle all night and all day. How does that sound?”

A small smile graces Harry's lips. “Hmm. Sounds really lovely. Can I be the li’l spoon?”

Louis laughs softly at him. His boy is too good for this world. “Always, my love.”


End file.
